


Even the Strong

by hanyou_elf



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Asexual Character, D/s aspects, Impotence, M/M, Spanking, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-23 21:18:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/626620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanyou_elf/pseuds/hanyou_elf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve had to learn how to be firm with his men.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Even the Strong

**Author's Note:**

> **Beta:** The Great and Powerful Obsidian  
>  **Type of Spanking:** Disciplinary  
>  **Implement:** Hand, Hairbrush  
>  **Created for:** Holiday Exchange fic for GinaSciFi  
>  **Genre:** Powerplay, slight AU  
>  **Word Count:** ~7,000  
>  **Warnings/Notes:** Steve is an asexual, but romantic, male. Clint and Tony are sexually involved. There’s a couple scenes of masturbation and one incident of sex in the fic (sorry, GinaSciFi! i know you actually asked for there to not be sex, or preferred that it wouldn’t be in the story, but the characters got away from me with it). It’s a non-linear timeline alternating between the Commandos and the Avengers.  
>  **Spoilers:** Captain America: The First Avenger; Avengers (2012)- cinematic canon only.

Clint wasn’t tied down to the chair, but he was still not moving. He was sitting rigidly still, his hands that were deadly and accurate clung to the seat of the chair tight enough that his knuckles were white with strain. His eyes were narrowed in deadly focus.

“You are done. You’re out until you get yourself back under control. I’m not losing you to idiocy,” Steve growled. He prowled around the seated assassin in smooth steps, evenly paced as he moved, big hands linked behind his back. He wore the tight blue pants and the high crimson boots of his uniform, his chest was naked, freed from the constricting leather that was his uniform’s shirt.

“You can’t bench me,” Clint shouted as he threw himself to his feet.

“I can. And have no doubt that I will,” he answered coldly. “You’ve been pushing yourself to the limits since Agent Coulson-”

“Don’t talk about him! You don’t have a fuckin’ clue!”

“Barton!” Steve roared. “Sit. Down.”

Steve watched as Clint obeyed. His hands gripped the base of the chair again, pulled at the seat as he forced himself to sit still. His eyes, dark blue and focused, tracked Steve’s movements. It was intoxicating to have that much intensity focused on him alone. He stopped pacing and turned on his heels, facing Clint’s seated body.

“You are losing control of yourself. And in doing so, you dishonor him,” Steve said softly, forced calm and hidden anger. “You do yourself no favors with your childish behavior. You hurt yourself and you hurt the memory that he left for you. Is that really what you want to do? With everything he did for you?”

Clint clenched his eyes shut and Steve pretended not to notice the trail of tears that slid free from his lashes. He clenched his jaw and looked away from Steve. Steve felt terrible for the archer, he wanted to do something to comfort and heal the pain of loss, something that he could relate to.

“You have to take care of yourself. Agent Coulson would not want you to push yourself into ruin,” Steve chastised softly. He dragged a hand through the short hairs on Clint’s head. “I don’t want you to lose yourself because of this,” he murmured. “I want you to be safe. And that means that you have to trust me as your leader. Trust me to take care of you.”

He used his hand on Clint’s head and pulled the archer close, pressed his face against his naked stomach. Six months. Six months since Agent Coulson had died by Loki’s hand and Clint had been falling over the edge ever since. He couldn’t let him go on like this anymore. He couldn’t let this man lose himself in his grief anymore.

Clint’s body hitched with his breath and he gasped out a wet sobbing noise against his skin. Steve closed his eyes, ashamed at the rush of lust that poured through him at the heated air, something he hadn’t felt until Tony. He wrapped his arms around Clint’s shoulders and pulled him closer, let his weight, slight enough to not really be significant but warm against his naked skin, rest on him. He slid his hands down Clint’s back and dragged them back up, comforting and consoling.

Beneath his touch, Clint shuddered, his breath wet against Steve’s stomach as he breathed through his mouth. After what felt like an eternity of just standing there with him, comforting as best as he knew how, Clint’s arms finally wrapped around Steve. Strong fingers clung to his tight pants, holding desperately as if he needed to ground himself in the here and now.

“Come to me next time,” Steve murmured softly. “I’ll take care of you, Clint. I promise I’ll take care of you.”

“I miss him,” Clint confessed. His lips moved across the naked muscles and Steve suppressed a shiver. It was one of the times that he was glad that his dick didn’t work like normal, because he didn’t need to ruin this moment with Clint, this important moment where they connected like they needed to. This was about creating trust, getting Clint to know that no matter what, he would have somebody to rely on.

“I know,” Steve murmured. “Listen to me,” Steve ordered. “If I don’t catch on, if you need help and you can’t come to me, you go to Tony. He’ll tell me, and I’ll take care of you. I won’t let you be alone.”

Clint nodded. The tension in his body evaporated and he relaxed against Steve after a long minute. He seemed to melt enough to finally give in, and Steve felt a wave of relief rush through him. He closed his blue eyes and prayed to a God that he believed in even though so few did anymore, and hoped that he could have the strength, the courage to be everything that Tony and Clint would both need in the future.

-.-.-.-

Life in the trenches was difficult. Captain Steve Rogers was in command of a group of veterans who had all seen active combat and had been prisoners of war. They were edgy when they were without special assignment for too long. Steve was familiar with the tells that his men had when they were nearing their limits. In all reality, he'd discovered his methods of control purely by accident. And all because of Bucky.

They were fighting, that first time it had happened. They were pushing each other’s buttons as hard and as fast as they could. It was an ugly situation, something that could damage the unity of their elite squad. Unable to take Bucky's antagonism anymore, Steve used his strength in a rare peaceful display of power.

Bucky grunted as he was forced onto the cold concrete, buried beneath the bulk of Steve's new body, powerful legs on either side of his waist, large hand wrapped reassuringly around his neck. The brunet shivered beneath him and sighed as he blinked angrily up at the blond. "Get the fuck offa me," he demanded.

He arched his body and pushed at the powerful arm against his neck. His eyes clenched shut as he fought Steve, but it was a futile effort at best. Steve didn't move, didn't give until Bucky had finally collapsed limply against the concrete.

"Easy," Steve murmured. He slid the hand not around Bucky's neck through his short hair. "I've got you."

Bucky's body relaxed slowly beneath the restriction Steve had forced on it. He finally heaved a watery sigh and blinked up, dark eyes were filled with tears and Steve leaned forward, giving Bucky a small modicum of privacy.

Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve's waist and just held on tight. His body shuddered as he sobbed against Steve's shoulder.

They stayed like that for a long time, lost to the comfort of another warm body, soothed by the closeness of another body who understood what they dealt with.

When Bucky's silent crying had finally ended, Steve pulled back and let the brunet sit up with him. "Are you better now?" he asked his best friend.

"Don't tell the other guys," Bucky begged softly.

-.-.-.-

Tony was a complicated topic. The first time he saw Tony, sauntering arrogantly through the bowels of the jet Natasha had flown to Germany, he had been struck by how much like Howard the younger Stark looked. It was uncanny, and Steve had been distracted by that. But then Tony’s attitude and arrogance and flashiness had dissolved Steve’s distraction into anger.

But underneath the distractions, the anger, he’d felt a rush of heat that was new and unexpected. And he didn’t know who to ask about it, or how to deal with it. So he reacted in anger, because that was easier- more familiar- than trying to figure out the heat and confusion.

After they managed to save New York, after they mourned for Coulson, and after they’d witnessed Loki’s return to Asgard, they all went their separate ways. Except Steve didn’t go very far. He traveled through modern New England, considered visiting modern Germany, but just wanted to finally settle down somewhere. He went back to New York, and as he crossed the state line, the Stark phone SHIELD had given him rang: it was Tony inviting him to the eyesore of a building that was Stark Tower, unofficially Avengers’ Tower.

Steve couldn’t pass that up. He knew his position on the team, he knew he needed to be their leader, but the world had advanced far beyond anything else he knew or understood. He needed to relearn the world around him, and his place as a Super Soldier within it.

He’d moved hesitantly into Stark Tower, wary of Tony’s attitude and behavior. And he didn’t want to be in the way of Tony and Pepper. As a couple, they needed and deserved privacy. An extra body that sucked up valuable time they had together was only detrimental to their relationship.

He was concerned though when no Miss Potts greeted him, just the talking tower. He really was just like his father in his commitment to the mechanical and the fantastic.

Steve refused to allow himself to be surprised by the talking house, and answered it politely. Tony was hidden in the bowels of his laboratory, playing and tinkering with inventions, a new concept that he wanted to bring to life.

Steve learned to live with Tony, and to his surprise, sometimes even Bruce showed up too. It was easy to be lulled into a sense of false security, a sense of calm and peacefulness. The sense of peace he’d found was the reason he hadn’t been expecting Tony’s rebellious breakdown.

-.-.-.-

Steve was never a fan of physical violence if used in a way that controlled people. He hated the idea that bullies could smack around people long enough, hard enough, that the violence became both expected and accepted. His father had been a drunken bully who’d wanted nothing more than to toughen up his cowardly, sickly son.

While Steve had learned to take a punch, it had certainly never beaten the sick out of him. Only peaceful intervention in the form of science and research had done that. And while grateful to the medical advancements that made him so much better, he knew he needed to be on the front, putting their science to the test. He had anger and frustration to work out through violence. And being a USO show-monkey just wasn’t going to cut it.

When he finally made it to Germany, he’d been blindsided by Bucky’s capture. He was Bucky’s next-of-kin, listed as a brother. They should have told him about Bucky going missing, presumed dead. Rampaging through the Hydra base, all of his anger and rage on explosive display had been exhilarating. As he’d carried Bucky out of the burning warehouse and into the waiting arms of the malnourished and filthy 107th, Steve knew exactly where he needed to be.

The men he’d chosen for the Howling Commandos were deliberate. He could not work with anyone who was a coward. And he wasn’t going to work alongside a man that had not done everything they could to help others after the rescue. His men needed to be brave and fearless. They needed to be the ones involved during the rescue. They needed to be able to fight in the ugly reality of the trenches while maintaining stealth in their special assignments.

Given that he had personally assured the rescue of all of the men that he would use, he knew they would respect him enough to follow, even with his unorthodox ascension through the ranks and rise to command.

Excepting Bucky’s eventual power struggle, the men had been golden. They were all smart and ingenious men who reveled in pursuing a target and succeeding. They liked to have a problem to solve, wrongs to right. After Bucky, he should have known that the possibility existed the rest of the commandos would need displays of his strength, anchoring and exacting. He hadn’t truly thought about it though.

Until Jacques decided it was his turn to be an asshole.

The problem with Jacques deciding to push the limits of Steve’s leadership skills and control was that Jacques was their unit expert on all things explosive. His rebellion consisted of not only questioning every aspect of Steve’s command, but also occasionally blowing things up that didn’t need to be blown up.

Like the Nazi supply truck they’d managed to liberate. It had held sleeping bags and rations, new shoes that had been intent for German soldiers, mail for loved ones, and the ever increasingly rare medical supplies.

After making sure they’d separated themselves from the scene, Steve had taken Jacques into the woods, away from the commandos and proceeded to dress him down; which was difficult given Jacques’ lack of proficiency with the English language. He spoke and Jacques mocked, circuitous and ever louder until Jacques took a swing. And Steve couldn’t allow that.

He blocked Jacques’ punch with one hand and grabbed his surprisingly thin wrist to pull him close. He didn’t give Jacques room to react before his powerful arms were wrapped around the thin Frenchman’s’ body. But Jacques wasn’t Bucky, and he wasn’t going to submit to soothing reassurances and brute strength.

He squirmed and cursed, kicked and tried to bite at Steve’s face before the captain realized he would have to change tactics. He smashed his forehead into Jacques’, let him go and blinked away the momentary disorientation. The Frenchman fell to the ground and lay there on his stomach with his dirty hands over his face. The head butt hadn’t done any major damage, they had been too close together for that, but Jacques’ unenhanced skull was still much more vulnerable.

He crouched beside the body and stuttered out uncertainly, _vous proteger,_ in his halting French.The man scoffed and tried to kick out backwards, but Steve slapped a hand down hard on the back of his thigh. The result, he never would have expected. Jacques moaned and collapsed onto his stomach. The hands that covered his face didn’t hide the muffled, thickly accented _again_ that echoed in the quiet around them.

Color rose on Steve’s cheeks, he could feel it burning away, but rather from embarrassment or rage or just pure shock, he couldn’t say. But forcing Bucky to give up his control issues had proven to be most beneficial. Surely doing the same to a man who played with explosives would only help him in the long run? Especially if it had similar results and reigned in Jacques’ destructive unpredictability.

He counted out nine more smacks, patterning them evenly between both thighs. When it was clear that no more were going to fall, Jacques collapsed onto his side. He looked up at Steve with eyes that watered and a bloody lip, but the change was obvious. That thrum of energy that had surrounded him for nearly two weeks was gone. Jacques looked at peace.

 _“Merci,”_ he murmured dazedly.

Steve shook his head, confused and angry with himself before he was forced to put all other thoughts on hold. Jacques lay loose-limbed and easy, his body relaxed and comfortable, which made his obvious arousal that much more noticeable. Steve didn’t know what to think of it, and he quickly averted his eyes.

He had no reason to judge, bullying as he’d been.

He stood and offered his hand to Jacques. “Let’s get you back. You should see Gabe.” The Frenchman and the linguist were no secret amongst the commandos. They all lived far too closely together to not know. And after everything that they’d been through, Steve saw no reason to dissuade them. The closeness made them fight harder to protect each other.

It was as he was preparing to sleep, setting aside the armor that named him Captain America to sit as just Steve Rogers that Gabe appeared. Steve expected anger from him in regards to the man that had physically assaulted his lover, but Gabe had none. “Sir, thank you. For whatever you did with Jacques. He’s actually asleep right now, for the first time this week. So, thank you. And Jacques said, next time, skip the hugging bullshit.”

Steve blinked stupidly for a long moment before he gave up and laughed. Neither man had considered the spanking of Jacques as some form of bullying. They were both okay with him. He nodded his head quickly and just breathed, relieved.

“Sir,” Gabe mumbled before he turned on his heel and stalked back toward the tent he shared with his lover.

-.-.-.-

Steve woke from a deep sleep by the vibrating rumble of explosives. His first instinct had been to call for Jacques, to reassert himself as the leader after so long without issue. But then the house had spoken to him, had given him its familiar spiel about time and date and weather and location. And Steve knew if it wasn’t Jacques blowing something up in the backwoods of Germany, it was Tony Stark in the bowels of his laboratory in the middle of New York.

“Jarvis, where’s the explosion’s starting point?”

“Lab 4F. Mr. Stark’s repulser lab,” the house answered in smooth British tones. For a man as rash and abrasive as Tony could be, the cultured sophistication of the massive AI never failed to impress him.

“And where is he?”

“Mr. Stark is currently in the stairwell, unmoving, between Labs 4F and 3H.”

“And the explosion, Jarvis?”

“Contained, sir.”

“Keep a record of all damage. It’s late, were the labs empty other than Tony?”

“Yes Captain Rogers. DUM-E and YOU are putting resultant fires out.”

“Very good, Jarvis. Keep Tony in the stairwell if it’s safe.”

“Yes Captain.”

The trek through the silent tower, past empty living quarters and deserted offices made the decision that much more important. He couldn’t leave Tony alone and hope the scientist would find stability on his own. Steve absolutely hated forcing it, but Tony needed to be controlled, needed to be taken in hand like some of the commandos had needed from him.

He found Tony pouting. His face was covered in sooty grayness from the explosion, his muscle shirt ruined. His jeans were filthy and would probably never come clean.

“Are you the reason my house locked me out? Because I’ve gotta say, that’s pretty fuckin’ rude. This is my tower. And if I don’t want to stay in a filthy stairwell after an accident in the lab, I shouldn’t fuckin’ have to.”

He drew a breath like he was going to continue in his indignant aggravation, and Steve moved. He pulled Tony close, wrapped his much smaller, frailer body tight in his arms before he pressed a chaste kiss to his filthy, chapped lips. Tony blinked at him, doe eyes wide and confused as he tried to process what just happened.

“Jarvis, make a list of the things that Tony can repair. Additionally, make a list of potential cleaning services for hazardous materials, and a list of things both salvageable and not. Mr. Stark has the rest of the evening off. Excepting real emergency, no interruptions until 9:30.”

“Affirmative, Captain Rogers.” He watched Tony making movements in protest, his mouth open to deny Steve the right to take control, but he spoke over the scientist. Tony snapped his mouth shut and looked away.

“Thank you.”

A house that obeyed was becoming something that he understood, even if it freaked him out sometimes. He pulled Tony close and in a voice that was no less commanding, demanded Tony’s sitting room. The brunet, usually impossible to silence, was mute and obedient, something Steve appreciated. Steve followed his lead and didn’t speak until they were alone in the room. They were the only ones on the level, and thanks to Jarvis’ powerful intervention, would be undisturbed.

He pushed Tony to his knees in the middle of the room with a small throw pillow beneath them to try to soften the position. Tony’s whole body was rigid and Steve was frustrated that he’d let this go one for so long.

“What the fuck?” Tony protested finally. There was life in his eyes and nervously flitting hands.

“You are out of control,” Steve answered. “Nobody’s making sure you stay on the straight and narrow, and tonight is a result of that. I wasn’t fulfilling my responsibility to you as your team leader. And for that, I’m sorry. But it’s not happening again.”

“Cap,” Tony quipped with a cocky grin and slow hungry blink. “If you wanted to play kinky games, all you had to do was ask.”

“It is not a game to me, Tony. You’re in trouble; I can and want to help you.” Steve moved behind Tony and pushed against his shoulder, forcing him to brace his body on his dirty hands and knees.

“You’d better be carrying lube in those fuckin’ pants,” Tony growled.

Steve kneeled beside him and gripped his chin hard. Gentling his strength so he wouldn’t bruise Tony, he used the grip to turn his face, bringing manic eyes into focus. “I’m not fucking you.”

He slid a large hand down Tony’s back, followed the natural curve of his body with his palm until it rested above the swell of his ass. Tony’s eyes had fallen closed, his breathing desperate as he struggled to maintain some kind of balance. But Steve didn’t want to him to get too comfortable. He pressed a kiss to Tony’s sweaty, filthy brow before he spanked Tony.

It was a testing move, to see how the billionaire responded, and a warning that more would come. Tony, much like Jacques in the woods, wilted. His arms collapsed, and if it hadn’t been for Steve’s hold on his face, he would have hit the floor. Tony’s breaths, quick to begin with, were almost too fast. His full lips were parted beneath clenched eyes.

“Steve?” he murmured confused.

Steve didn’t answer verbally, just repeated the action. He brought his hand down firmly against Tony’s ass. The resultant moan was unexpected, but he let it go. Perhaps like Jacques, correction like this was arousing for Tony?

Tony’s body jerked with the movement and he grunted. He pushed back, putting his body where Steve had positioned him originally. The unfamiliar rush of heat that poured through him at that, with the abnormal obedience he shouldn’t have expected to get so quickly from Tony, made him feel hot and uncomfortable. He didn’t know how to handle it. But he liked it.

He slid his hand up, back down, and then up Tony’s back again, rested it firmly between his shoulder blades. “You have to give yourself care. You have to sleep. Eat when you need to. Relax just a little. You do yourself, and those who count on you, no favors when you run yourself to the ground like this. It’s why you blew your lab up today,” Steve chastised before he dropped a third spanking. Tony moaned in response, dark hazel eyes clenched shut as he moved with the momentum. “Do you understand?”

“Y-yes,” Tony stuttered. He licked his lips and sobbed softly as he buried his head in his arms against the floor. He made a soft noise as he was hit again.

“When you can’t sleep, you come to me. When you should eat but can’t, you come to me. When you feel yourself losing control, you come to me. I will take care of you,” Steve promised. “I won’t let anyone hurt you. But you have to trust me to do it.”

Steve brought his hand down once more, watched as the flesh of Tony’s ass shifted beneath the denim. Tony’s back arched and he groaned as he tried to keep himself still. Steve wasn’t going to give him ten because he needed Tony to understand what was wanted from him. Wanted him to understand what would happen when he didn’t do what was expected of him. After tonight, the next time, he would give ten. Because there was no need for blatant disobedience.

Steve stood and stretched before he settled heavily on the oversized couch. “Tony, come here.”

He watched with baited breath as Tony curled into himself before he stood. Blue eyes trekked down the long line of Tony’s lean body and stopped at the obvious tenting in his jeans. Color heated Tony’s cheeks. He watched the careful calmness that had settled over him before he shifted his body. The familiar cockiness was there again, and he sauntered to the couch, an intoxicating roll of his hips as he moved.

Tony slid onto the couch, draped his long legs on either side of Steve’s larger body. He pushed himself close, pushed his hands down his flat stomach and stopped at his jeans waistband. Tony’s dirty hands struggled with the button of his jeans, pulling the button through the eyelet before he dropped the zipper. Steve watched Tony push himself to the edge of decency, stopped only because his legs spread wide on either side of Steve prevented him from getting his jeans anything more than undone. "Will you take care of this too?" he asked softly, his voice husky and deep.

Steve wrapped his arms around the thinner man and pulled him close. He didn't care to seek sexual gratification, had honestly in his life never wanted it, and was afraid of what Tony would think if he explained that to him. Tony excited him, made him feel more alive than anything else in this strange new world had. He didn't want to isolate his best friend, his closest confidant and this most exciting possibility.

Instead, he did what he knew he needed to do, what he wanted to do but didn't know how to follow up on. He pressed his lips firmly against Tony's. He started out chaste and simple, something sweet that made him want more than just that basic connection. Tony moved the kiss from touching lips to more. He pressed his body as close to Steve as he could and slid his hands into the blond strands at the back of Steve's head. His full lips parted and when they did, they dragged Steve's with them. The soldier, eager to learn and to please flicked his tongue into the small space between their lips and realized he must have done something right when Tony groaned and rocked his body against Steve. It was new, addicting in its goodness. He wanted to stay in this moment forever, Tony's body pressed against his, their mouths linked, tongues sliding ever so hesitantly but so hungrily over each other.

Tony's body arched against him, his back bowed tautly. Steve's right hand roamed the careful arch while his left held onto the narrow wing of Tony's hip. It was so good, to finally press his lips against the man who had incited heat and confusion in himself, and Tony's squirming wasn't bad either.

The brunet shifted, rolled his hips and pressed his weight closer and away as he deepened the kiss, speeding his tongue's movements as he panted against Steve's mouth. The hands in Steve's hair tightened almost impossibly before Tony broke the kiss with a groaned curse.

Hazel eyes rolled back in his head, his forehead rested against Steve's and his mouth hung open in slack jawed relief. The lean body in Steve's hands trembled, convulsive under waves of pleasure that only Tony rode. He pressed his lips to the exposed column of Tony's neck, tasted the salt there, the tensed muscles and pounding pulse.

"Gotta return that favor," Tony panted softly.

Steve let himself feel embarrassed for a long minute before he answered honestly, "I don't. I haven't had an erection since the serum. I don't need one. Watching you was enough."

"You realize the creep factor in that?" Tony snorted incredulously. He nodded though, solemn and serious before he shifted his relaxed body, letting himself fall boneless against Steve's chest. "At least the demand for reciprocation when I'm all loose with orgasm won't ruin a good buzz."

Steve nodded before he pressed his lips once more to Tony's, softening the kiss until they were both lax. Tony curled his hand against Steve's chest, his hazel eyes closed contentedly. It wasn't long after that Tony fell asleep.

-.-.-.-

Steve had never really been bothered by the fact that he wasn’t like other men. He didn’t care that he couldn’t have a dame that he’d fall in love with, that he wouldn’t have a dame that he could take care of. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had an erection. And with the serum, he’d hoped to have that problem fixed, but it only seemed to make things worse. It was terrifying, to know that he wasn’t the man that he should have been. At least he would never have to worry about springing an inappropriate erection when he didn’t need one, considering how tight the suit was.

But watching Bucky, his eyes clenched shut as he stroked the firm flesh in his hand made Steve want. Heat curled low in his belly, desire that he couldn’t really understand, but wanted to feel more of.

Steve could feel adrenaline rushing through him, Bucky had been on the edge all day, and Steve had forced him against a wall, held him steady and safe until he’d finally capitulated, his body, all two hundred and ten pounds, collapsed against Steve and he’d trembled against his Captain with soft gasping cries that left Steve desperate to do something. Instead, he sat on the edge of the cot in his tent in his underwear and watched Bucky stroking himself slowly.

Hazel eyes were rolled up to the back of his head and his teeth dug into his bottom lip, but he looked too tensed to even care about trying to put on a good show. He thrust up into his hand and a soft moan escaped him as his fingers caught on the flare of the head. It didn’t take him long before he was trembling, viscous fluid covering his hand.

He pulled at himself quickly, milking every last drop from himself before he collapsed with a gasp.

Steve fell to his knees beside his oldest friend and pressed his lips to Bucky’s. They kissed like there was no air between them, like what they were doing was acceptable, slow and languid. His tongue chased into Bucky’s mouth, tasting him intimately before drawing Bucky into his own mouth. His hand, big and strong, held Bucky on his hip and neck, supporting him.

“I love you Buck,” he whispered against wet lips.

-.-.-.-

Tony looked like the cat that had swallowed the canary when Steve told him that he was taking care of Clint as well. The grin on the scientist’s face was wide enough that Steve thought his face might split in two. The glint in his eyes was almost maniacal, but when Clint was brought to their bedroom, sharing Steve’s space because he wanted to have control in even this small aspect, he gentled. He touched Clint reverently, spreading his calloused and permanently stained hands over scarred torso and back.

It was a beautiful sight, watching them move together. If there were a time he truly regretted not being able to participate in this basic aspect of human nature, it was when Clint was filled, strong body spread out on the blanket beneath Tony’s expert hands and hungry lips and ever roving eyes. They moved together like they belonged, like each move was choreographed and where one ended, the other filled up the empty spaces. It was sensual and beautiful.

They finished in gasping cries of Steve’s name, both eyes locked on him as he watched them move together. It was arousing in a way he didn’t completely understand. When they fell limply to the bed, separated by inches as they panted for breath, he took the opportunity to place kisses to their brows before he stood. They needed to be wiped clean before it all grew tacky on their skin.

He’d never imagined, when he was younger and fantasizing how he would live his life with another person, that he would be able to have a lover who was still satisfied, because he couldn’t do it. Clint and Tony would be able to give each other what they needed, without making Steve feel like he was failing either of them. The captain was relieved, because he never wanted to disappoint them, never wanted to betray the trust he was desperate to cultivate in them both.

In the en suite, Steve wet a rag beneath a stream of warm water and after he wrung it out, he crawled into bed with his lovers and cleaned them slowly, gently. Tony purred contentedly at the sensation and Clint grunted as he blinked blue eyes up at him, disgruntled and grumpy before he curled into Tony’s arms.

Steve smiled and pulled the covers up around his lovers’ bodies.

-.-.-.-

Steve knew that Tony and Clint filled something in each other that he couldn’t give them. It was the physical pleasure that they both craved like water that they couldn’t get from him. They were both mysterious and adventurous. They both liked it when things exploded and blew up, but they craved the solidity that Steve’s presence brought them.

He was afraid that they liked the way he could control them both so much that they were willing to act out, like errant children beneath a watchful father’s critical eye. Generally, Steve was okay with what they were doing, but they’d pushed things too far. It was the first time that he would have to punish them together. And he was surprised that it had taken them nearly six months to get into trouble together.

Somehow, Tony and Clint had managed to blow up something in the kitchen and in doing so they’d startled a Bruce who had only just come through for tea so much that he hadn’t been able to stop the sudden transformation. For an hour, the Hulk had rampaged through the kitchen and communal common area.

It had taken them nearly four hours of cleaning up to get things righted, as much as they could handle things without having to reorder furniture. Satisfied with the way the living room and kitchen had looked, Steve had grabbed the pair by the scruffs of the neck like wayward puppies and dragged them up to his rooms.

Once they were alone in his bedroom, the doors behind him firmly shut and locked, he pushed the pair downward and gave his orders. “Kneel,” he growled in the strongest Captain voice he could manage. “Hands behind your back, clasped at the wrists, heads down.”

He watched, his blue eyes narrowed in anger as they moved to obey. Tony’s chin was tucked into his sternum, just edging the metal of the arc reactor. His eyes were closed as his ink stained and filthy hands folded behind his back, obeying the commands he’d been given. Clint’s head wasn’t nearly so bowed, but his eyes fell on the floor before him. His hands were folded low on his back, clutching at the wrists. They don’t bother looking contrite, just sorry they’d been caught.

“I’m not sure what you two were thinking,” Steve growled. “But that was stupid. Very, very stupid.”

“I was just demonstrating the wa-” Tony started in a deep voice.

“I didn’t say you could speak,” Steve interrupted. His voice was angry, and he offered no quarter. “I am angry with you both. There was no reason for the explosions in the kitchen. What happened, and the guilt that Bruce is going to have to live with now, is on your shoulders. You just created a situation where Bruce will feel validated for wanting to leave. You created a proof for him, that he’s not safe amongst humanity. And it will be your responsibility to make sure that he understands that we still want him here.

“I’m disappointed in you both. You know better. You’re both smarter than this, or so I’d thought. I cannot let you get away with this. You’ll kneel here, watching silently while the other is punished,” Steve commanded. “Clint, the brush from the bathroom, please.”

Tony’s body shivered before he stilled himself. He licked his lips as Clint rose gracefully and moved to obey Steve. His hands fisted in the fabric of his filthy t-shirt. When he came back to the room, he moved back into position, after he handed the brush to Steve. It was distracting.

Steve hadn’t done this, not to this level. He’d always used his hand. He didn’t want to hurt anyone more than he could with his hand. And he had a lot of strength to put into his hand, and he couldn’t do that to his lovers. He couldn’t hurt them more than the basic correction that his hand brought. But they’d hurt Bruce, they’d scared him and shown him that they couldn’t respect his need for the careful calm that had long been cultivated for him there. And he couldn’t accept that.

“You’ll both be getting twenty spankings each. You absolutely will not do it again. You _have_ to respect the people that live in this tower. That means Bruce. That means that your explosions are either in the labs or outside, do you understand?”

They each nodded. It was enough.

“I want you to kneel, elbows and chests on the bed. I want your butts in the air where I can get them easily, do you understand?”

He watched them get into position. Watched them kneel at the foot of his bed, their elbows and forearms on the bed. Their asses were put into position, presented to the air. Tony buried his head in the blankets at the end of the bed with his eyes clenched shut as he waited for his punishment, waited for Steve to make his move. Clint had his head parallel to the bed, his eyes shut as he waited patiently. Both of them trembled in the anticipation of what was coming.

Steve offered no warning before he swung the brush: flat, square, and with a series of air holes. He brought the brush down firmly against Tony first. He didn’t pull his power too much, only enough to make sure that he didn’t permanently damage his lover. He watched the scientist’s body thrust forward into the bed and then bounce back. He trembled and sobbed a gasping breath in. His knees shifted before he settled into position again.

Steve moved onto Clint. He brought the brush down and watched as the archer trembled beneath the blow. His body shuddered and his forehead fell to the bed before he settled again. He repeated the motion again, alternating between Tony and Clint. He hated that he enjoyed the way they trembled beneath him, hated that he enjoyed the way they submitted completely to him in the wake of his anger. He liked the way they fell into line, obedient and safe beneath his control.

When he had reached twenty, he dropped the brush between their bodies on the bed and kneeled behind them. He slid his hands over the curve of their butts, felt the heat of their skin beneath their jeans. Bodies trembled, and Steve knew it was going to sting for them both, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel bad about it. He had had to take them in hand.

He pulled Tony up onto his knees, braced his shivering body against Steve’s chest. With careful movements, he unbuttoned Tony’s jeans and pushed them and his smooth boxers down his thighs, and let them rest at the bend of his legs. He shifted back, his groin pressed against Tony’s hot butt before he pulled the t-shirt and undershirt over his head.

“You did good, sweetheart,” Steve whispered. He pressed a kiss to Tony’s wet cheeks and dragged a hand through his sweaty hair. “I’m angry with you, but more disappointed. You’ll apologize to Bruce tomorrow,” he ordered softly. Tony nodded against his shoulder and bit back a soft gasp.

Satisfied, he pushed Tony back into position, mirroring Clint before he moved back and took his place behind the archer. His blue eyes took in Tony, the burning red of his pale skin. It was a beautiful contrast, his butt looked like it was blushing, the shape of the brush hinted at in the bruised skin.

He pulled Clint up, let him rest against Steve’s chest and wrapped his arms around him. “I’m proud of you, baby. You did well. I’m angry with you, but I’m more disappointed in your behavior. Tomorrow, you’ll apologize to Bruce,” he ordered. Steve pressed a kiss to his neck and slid his hand into Clint’s jeans, pushing them down.

He pushed Clint back into place. The pale skin on his ass was flushed, the brush’s form hinted at heavily. He leaned against the bed and breathed deep as Steve stood up.

“I forgive you both. I hope you understand what you’ve done with Bruce. And tomorrow, you’ll both beg him for forgiveness.”

He left them kneeling there, wet with their tears. He started the shower, a cubicle large enough to hold four or five easily, set the temperature to hot. With towels on the sink for the three of them, he went to retrieve his boys. He had given them harsh punishment, but they were done with their punishment, as far as he was concerned. And now, he needed to show them that he forgave them, that he loved them enough to put it all behind him like this.

“Strip down and come on,” Steve ordered.

He ignored the rigid flesh between their legs as they passed him, stopping to give them both chaste kisses before they got into the shower. It was going to be a short night, lots of cuddling in the bed between them, but Steve needed it after the night they’d had.


End file.
